‘It’s great,’ I say and lift the glass to my mouth. My lips on her lipstick.
Aaditha’s cheeks colour. The shade of her lipstick.
After a while, we move from our seats and stand by the parapet, from where we look down at the now-empty courtyard. We watch as the bonfire settles into the earth, whispering embers disappearing into the night.
A stiff breeze draws a shiver.
‘My god, this view!’ she says, turning to me. ‘It’s like I’m making eye contact with the Aravalli. Looking up at it from the courtyard is brilliant – brown, green, bold – but this is a whole different level of awe… It’s like you can converse with it.’
‘Why, hello, my friend!’
She stops talking and turns to me.
‘Your friend for life,’ I say.
She nods.
This balcony is my getaway in Ranibagh. It could be Aaditha’s, too,if she wants it.
14.
Vedveer
Happy Holi, Your Highness!
I’m the first one from the family down at the Rang Mahal courtyard. We’re playing true to form.
I stand in the centre, admiring thejharokhas, dressed in heavy strings of marigolds, in shades of happy and happier. Silken buntings in fuchsia and saffron flutter in the morning breeze.
Tall stalks of roses and desert jasmine, strung together thickly, decorate the archways in the corridor. Brass urns brimming withgulalline the marble steps at the entrance.
Ranibagh is ready.
The water fountain is already spouting colour, and Raj Kiran, the valet, can’t take his eyes off it.
Holi in Ranibagh is chaotic – loud, bright and unapologetic. It never fails to lift the spirits. These are the only quiet moments when we can breathe easy.
In half an hour or less, the place will be a blur of colour and sound. The rhythmic beat of thedholthrums my chest as I move through the crowd, smearing colour on the feet of elders. Even Father, stubbornly resistant to stepping out of his comfort zone, makes allowance for Holi. He wakes up early, pulls on a white kurta and joins in the celebrations.
I look at my watch. Father should be down any moment.
Aaditha and her parents are here. Holi will be different this time.Even if it is just for this time.
She has reservations about marriage in general and this match in particular.
My breath is rough; I feel it.
Raj Kiran turns to face me, a curious expression on his face.
My ringtone saves me. I wonder if it is Aaditha. I asked the nervous Ms Barmer to step back and give Aaditha space. I hope she hasn’t forgotten her altogether.
It isn’t Aaditha; it is Father calling.
When I return to the Rang Mahal courtyard some half hour later, after sorting out invites to foreign dignitaries who hadn’t made our initial list, the place is a riot of colour.
In the last couple of years, we have started opening up our Holi celebrations outside the circle of family and friends. This is a joyous event, and I thought we should allow other communities in this country and beyond to get a feel of this vibrant festival.
I barely make it past the marble steps before my youngest cousin, all of thirteen, throws herself at me. She has a fistful of green, which I manage to avoid. I make my way into the crowd.
